


To call each thing by its right name

by bluetilo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rimming, Sexual Inexperience, Smut, Theon Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetilo/pseuds/bluetilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon is startled to find the future Lord of Winterfell at the brothel, and even more startled to find out exactly what he's been up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To call each thing by its right name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoubleBit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleBit/gifts).



> I wrote this for the prompt in the summary, and I also thought this would be a good contribution to Theon Week. My undying gratitude to DoubleBit, who betaed this silly story and actually made it happen. <3
> 
> Theon is kind of a douche in this, but maybe it's part of his charm? Idk, let me know what you think. :)
> 
> As always, con-crit is much appreciated.

Theon took the smallest sip from the mug of ale he was having at the brothel in Wintertown. Well, not at the _brothel._ The Starks were too damn honorable to have a brothel under the shadow of their castle, so all the northerners called the place a _tavern_. Sure, it was a place to do all the things one did at a tavern—a weary traveler could have a cup of ale or strong wine, eat rabbit stew, or rent a room for the night to rest his tired eyes. There was even a stable for said traveler's horse. But there were too many rooms and too few travelers, the North being that desolate, depressing wasteland that it was. There was also several tavern wenches, most of them not particularly pretty, but all of them quite willing to spend some time in those empty rooms for a man with the right amount of copper in his pockets.

Being an ironborn, instead of a northerner, Theon felt it was his right to call the establishment what it was: a brothel. Unfortunately, a brothel it might be, but at the moment, Theon wasn't a man with the right amount of copper. In fact, the amount of copper currently in his pocket was only slightly higher than the price he'd have to pay for the ale he was drinking, which was why he was drinking it so slowly. And which was why he still hadn't taken Merigold, the whore who had been teasing him with her ample bosom for the last hour, into a room and fucked her brains out. But that didn't mean he couldn't look at the merchandise, so he stayed there, drinking very slowly from his mug while Merigold enticed him with her qualities.

She was such a distraction that he almost didn't see the person sneaking around the stairwell, trying to climb the steps to the second floor, where the rooms were, without being seen. His cloak was so ragged Theon almost didn’t give him a second look, dismissing the stranger for some lowborn peasant trying to get his cock sucked before going back to herding sheep, but a lock hair escaped from his hood and Theon saw the auburn of it. When the man looked over his shoulder suspiciously, Theon had a clear view of Robb Stark’s face.

Merigold's big teats must have hidden Theon from sight, because he was pretty sure Robb hadn't seen him. Theon should go and confront him, see how the little heir would react. Would he try to act all serious and proper, mimicking his father with all the Stark poise? Or would he blush and choke on his words like the green boy he was?

Robb was such a killjoy coming here alone. If he had told Theon, they could have come together, and Theon would have told him everything he needed to know—starting with what to expect from each whore. Theon had bedded almost all of them, some even more than once, and he wouldn't mind saying a few words of wisdom to a boy about to have his first woman, especially if that boy was Robb.

Yolanda was too tall and her face was too plain, but she was like wildfire under the sheets, her mouth vicious like a kraken's grip. But coming to think of it, mayhaps she was too wild for a boy like Robb—he might soil his breeches before she could even do anything worth his money. Pisha could be a good option. He wasn't sure that was her name—perhaps it was Tysha—but he definitely remembered how well she impaled herself on his cock. It could be a good thing for Robb, have the girl do all the work, considering how inexperienced he was. There was a new girl, too, and she was the prettiest one, but she had the bad habit of lying in bed as cold as a dead fish, and with the same vague stare, so she would be the least recommendable choice. Theon hoped Robb hadn't chosen her, fooled by her good looks.

He stuck his neck out, raising his head from Merigold's cleavage, trying to see who Robb had picked, after all. And when he did, he couldn't believe what his eyes saw. It wasn't Yolanda. It wasn't Pisha, Tysha, whatever her name was. It wasn't the dead fish girl. The person who followed Robb upstairs was a boy.

A small boy with straw colored hair, most likely older than Robb, but underfed enough that he seemed younger. The gentle sway of his walk was more fluid than many women's hips. Theon gazed at them from a distance, open-mouthed. There must be some other explanation to what he just saw, something other than—

But what else could Robb want with a boy whore behind closed doors?

Theon knew better than barging into a room in a brothel, and he wouldn't want to draw attention to Robb; his unimpressive clothes disguised him well enough—no one who didn’t know him would imagine that was the son and heir of Lord Eddard Stark, future Lord of Winterfell. But Theon couldn't just stay there while Robb was—

But he couldn't finish that thought, because then there was a different set of breasts in front of him, and these ones were a lot smaller and saggier than Merigold’s. Ysmay, a woman probably as old as all the other girls combined, stood in front of him, her heavily powdered face wrinkled in a grimace.

"I beg m'lord his pardon, but do you ever plan on taking this girl upstairs?" she said, pointing to Merigold.

"What?" Theon asked out of reflex. He couldn't care less at the moment about Merigold and her absurd breasts.

"M'lord is just sitting there. M'lord won't have another mug, won't take Merry upstairs. I don't mean no disrespect, but my girls got to make a living, and if m'lord won't buy, there are others who will."

The brothel wasn't too crowded—he doubted Robb would have dared going there if it was, disguise or no disguise—there were only two or three other men at the tables, but Ysmay was right. A man to his right was openly leering at Merigold. If this was another time, Theon would have been furious at the affront; he was of noble birth, an ironman, and wouldn't be spurned over a peasant with bad teeth. But right then he was too astonished to react accordingly. Right then, he just drew a coin out of his pocket and put it over the table, leaving right away to fetch his horse at the stable. He’d wait for Robb in Winterfell.

* * *

Robb was too old to share a bedroom with babes such as Rickon and Bran, and Lady Stark knew better than to have her eldest son share a room with a bastard, so Robb had his own private chambers in the Great Keep. Theon waited for him there, sitting on the overly large bed.

Theon waited and waited, but the hours didn’t seem to pass. How long could Robb take to fuck that stupid boy and ride back to the castle? Could it have been so good that fucking the boy once wasn’t enough for Robb, and he was now having seconds, mayhaps even thirds? Or perhaps that lying, treacherous whore was trying to convince Robb to spread his legs, and that was what was taking so long?

When Robb finally arrived, Theon was fuming.

Robb closed the door behind him, not noticing Theon at first. He wasn’t wearing the battered cloak anymore.

“Took you long enough,” Theon said, crossing his arms.

Robb nearly jumped. “Theon,” he said, startled, “do you want Bran to become Lord of Winterfell in my stead? You almost scared me to death.” And then, trying to recompose himself: “Why are you in my chambers?”

Theon was having none of it. “Where is your cloak? Did you leave it with him? A gift to remember you by, perhaps?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Greyjoy,” Robb said, with fake confidence. He always called Theon by his surname when he wanted to sound more sure of himself than he actually was.

“I’d advise you against giving presents to whores, even if was such an awful cape,” he said, and then he shrugged. “But I suppose that for a cheap boy whore from Wintertown, that cape was as good as a silk Dornish mantle.”

“Did you follow me?” Robb said, glaring at him like he had any right to be outraged.

“I was there, at the tables, drinking ale and having fun with some wench, when you came in, acting suspicious like you just ruined your father’s sword, and then you went into a room with that boy,” Theon said, blood pulsing in his temples.

“Keep your voice down,” Robb said, looking guiltily at the door, like he was afraid someone had their ear against the wood. Then he stuck his nose up in the air one more time, like he still had hope of maintaining his dignity in that conversation. “And it wasn’t like that. I was there on official matters.”

“Oh, you were?” How stupid did Robb think he was?

“Aye. I was there on father’s behalf. He sent me there to…to talk to them about…about the bastard of Bolton.” He finished like he had just come up with something brilliant.

“The bastard of Bolton? You went to a whorehouse to talk about one of your father’s bannermen’s bastards?” It was Theon’s time to glare at him.

“Aye. Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Bolton, was there a fortnight ago with some man called Damon. They ransacked the place. You must have heard about it.”

It was true. From what Theon heard, the bastard took a girl to one of the rooms and tried to beat her bloody. When she ran away for help, Snow and his mate got in a fight with other men having drinks at the brothel. Outnumbered, Snow and the other man fled, but not before tearing up the place. Theon was at the Great Hall when Ysmay presented her grievances. As far as Theon knew, Lord Stark still hadn’t decided what to do. Still, it made no sense.

“You’d have me believe your lord father sent you, his first-born, alone to deal with whores about the ransacking of a brothel?” Theon said slowly, rising from the bed and walking towards Robb.

Robb took a step back for each step Theon took in his direction.

“It’s a tavern,” Robb protested idiotically, his back pressed against the wall.

“And you, the green boy that you are, had to discuss official matters not with Ysmay, who actually owns the bloody whorehouse, but within closed quarters with a boy whore?” Theon said, putting his palms on each side of Robb’s head, touching the wall behind him.

Robb sustained his gaze, jaws clenched so hard Theon could see the tightness in his chin.

“Why can’t you just admit you were fucking him?” Theon asked, raising his eyebrows in a casual manner. “You wouldn’t be the first. In the Iron Islands, many men rape greenlander’s sons as well as their daughters during raids.”

“I wasn’t fucking him,” Robb said through gritted teeth. He pushed Theon away and sat on the bed, crossing his fingers over his lap. “That’s not what I wanted from him.”

“So you wanted him to suck you off. Big difference.” A hole was a hole. Theon might be berating Robb over his visit to the brothel, but that was more over the surprise of seeing him there, with a boy no less, than actual criticism. Even so, Theon couldn’t shake the vexation he felt. “I can’t believe you gave your copper to a whore just to have him suck your prick.”

“We didn’t do that either. It wasn’t like that.”

Theon was mildly exasperated at Robb’s stupid lies. “Well, you must have done _something_ given how long you took to come back.”

“I—” Robb swallowed a couple times before resuming “—I rode in the opposite direction for some time. I didn’t want anyone to see me heading towards Winterfell. And I had to toss the cape as well. I couldn’t risk anyone recognizing me.”

At least Robb wasn’t a total fool.

“I told them my name was Artos, and that I was a traveler from the Reach making my way to the Wall.”

Theon scoffed at that. “You needn’t come up with some detailed story. You had the money, you took him upstairs, is all.”

Robb looked up at him. “No one knows I was there. Except you.”

The request went unsaid. _Don’t tell anyone._

“I’ll keep it a secret, _Stark_ ,” Theon said, teasingly, and he could see relief in Robb’s features. “If you tell me exactly what you had in mind when you walked into that room.”

It looked like Robb had just been punched, the difference in his face so sudden, relief turning into annoyance.

“Why do you care?”

“You just played dress up pretending to be lowborn just to see a whore in Wintertown, and you want me to believe you didn’t go through all that to fuck him. I’ll admit I’m curious.”

Robb said nothing.

Theon decided to give him a little nudge in the right direction. “You can either tell me, or tell your lord father,” he said, sitting down next to Robb. “Whatever you think is easier.” He wouldn’t actually tell Lord Stark, but Robb didn’t need to know that.

Robb looked guiltier than ever. It wasn’t an expression Theon was used to seeing in Robb, and it made him smirk.

“I went there because I wanted to…because I wanted to talk,” Robb said at last.

Theon waited for him to go on, but Robb left it at that.

“To talk?” Theon asked in disbelief. “What, you’re friends with him now? Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, future Warden of the North, best friend of whores?”

“I had things I wanted to know,” Robb said, like that clarified it all. “And I had no one to ask.”

Theon could imagine only one subject Robb would want to discuss with a whore. “If you wanted tales of bedding, why didn’t you come to me?”

It was quite disheartening that Robb would rather hear stories from a whore than from Theon, but he tried to hide how slighted he felt.

“Whores talk. You surely don’t want the entire North gossiping about how the little lording from Winterfell doesn’t know where to put it.” He could see Robb’s cheeks growing red at that. “But, oh, I’m sorry. You’re not the heir of Winterfell, you’re Artos from the Reach,” he said, laughing. “You might’ve as well shouted at the top of your lungs who you really were. Who else other than a Stark would pay a whore to talk instead of fuck?”

Theon was having too much fun hassling Robb over his trip to the brothel, but mayhaps it was enough for now. Robb’s lips were pressed tight, and Theon didn’t want to make him mad, not truly.

“If you’re done with your mocking, feel free to leave my chambers,” Robb said with the voice Theon imagined him using to talk with his bannermen, once he became Lord of Winterfell.

“Leave?” Theon said, like the suggestion was ridiculous. “You haven’t even told me what you asked the boy yet.”

Robb shot him a look that said he wasn’t pleased at all with where this conversation was going, but he complied anyway. “I wanted to ask him…I wanted to ask him how—” Robb sighed loudly “—At times, I heard men talking about—about fucking other men.”

Theon felt the corners of his lips being pulled in a smile out of their own volition. Robb would be Warden of the North, a kingdom as large as the other six combined; even as an heir, he already had a lot of power in his hands—yet he blushed at simple, crude words _._ For a moment, Theon was lost trying to imagine how Robb would blush if he actually bedded someone, instead of just talking about it.

“Like when Galbart Glover went hunting with father. I heard a man in his party talking about a footman from someone’s guard sent to the Wall after he was caught…caught fucking a nobleman’s nephew.” Robb’s fingers played with the fur beneath him as he spoke. “With husbands and wives, there’s no mystery. I know what a man’s role is. But when men lie with other men, it’s a confusing concept. I wanted to know how they can find pleasure with each other.” Robb took a deep breath and left it at that.

So Robb really didn’t know what went where.

By the Drowned God, it was almost too easy.

“Did the boy at the brothel tell you anything?” Theon asked.

“No. As soon as we walked into the room, he took his clothes off and asked me how I wanted him. I didn’t know what to say, so I—I fled.”

Theon leaned against Robb almost imperceptibly, his knee touching Robb’s. “Did you? Want him, I mean.”

Robb took a long time to respond. While he waited, Theon looked at him under a new light, really taking in all of Robb’s details. His skin was creamy and soft, unmarred, easy to turn pink—like it was now, face and neck completely flushed. The curls in his hair were so maddeningly perfect in their auburn color that Theon suddenly wanted nothing more than pull at them. And there was his face, the solemn expression Robb put on every time he tried to sound like a proper lordling—Theon loved that face, but he would love nothing more that wiping that expression away and replacing it with one much more debased.

“I—I don’t know,” Robb said finally. “I don’t know how wanting a man is supposed to feel.”

“Not very unlike wanting a woman,” Theon said, shrugging. “At least to me, isn’t.”

Robb’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve been with men?”

The truth was Theon had never, but he wasn’t going to tell Robb that, so instead, he just said, “Sometimes, a man can be more interesting than a woman, depending on the woman. And on the man.” He pressed his knee against Robb’s harder. “If there was a woman you wanted, a woman that made your gut stir in desire for her,” he asked, his voice a lot lower, “would you want to kiss her? Would you want to lick into her mouth, and suck on her lips?”

“Aye,” Robb said, his voice nearly dying in the back of his throat.

“With a man, if you wanted him enough, you do could the exact same thing. The difference is that when you kissed him, you’d feel his beard scratching your skin. It’d be rougher.”

He took Robb’s hand and held it against his face, rubbing his unshaved stubble on Robb’s palm in one swift motion. “Like this,” he said, putting Robb’s hand down.

Robb shivered next to him on the bed.

“If you kissed a woman’s neck, she would smell pretty, and her skin would be soft. But if you kissed a man’s neck, it would feel different under your tongue.” His fingers traced the lump on Robb’s throat. “A man would most likely smell of sweat and musk, and you wouldn’t even know why that aroused you so much.”

Robb’s mouth was agape, and he stared at Theon in silence.

“With a woman, you’re always holding something back, because they’re smaller than you, they’re fragile, they can’t take all you have to give. But men are tougher—” he squeezed Robb’s arms, strong and firm even for a boy, with everyday sword practice “—they can take more of everything.”

Robb seemed to be clinging to every word. No whore in the world could have captured Robb like this, Theon just knew it.

“And while some things are different, others are quite similar. You might put a woman’s teats in your mouth, suck on her nipples. Most men would enjoy it just as much.”

Robb finally said something. “Men have no teats. Would good would sucking on their nipples do?”

Theon’s smirk was sly. “You have nipples, you tell me.”

Robb smiled at him, like Theon had just made the funniest jape. The smile died slowly on his lips when he realized Theon was serious, until finally, with movements so slow it took Theon some time to see his hands were moving at all, Robb unlaced his leather doublet. He put one hand under his shirt to presumably touch his nipples.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” he said, frowning, and pulling his hand from underneath his shirt in a quick motion, as if he regretted touching himself there in the first place.

“Then you must be doing it wrong,” Theon said, and in a heartbeat he was pushing Robb flat on the bed, lifting his shirt, and assaulting his dark red nipples with his mouth.

Robb yelped in surprise, but Theon wasn’t afraid. What could Robb do? Tell Lord Stark? He wouldn’t—Theon had too much leverage. The worst Robb could do was deny him, and, judging by the soft gasp Theon heard as he circled one hard nipple with the tip of his tongue, Robb wasn’t about to do that.

Theon wasn’t even sure when exactly he started to want Robb so badly. Was it when Theon saw him at the brothel? While he waited in Robb’s chambers? When he realized precisely how naïve and inexperienced Robb was? Perhaps it was before, before all this, a lifetime ago—he just hadn’t been aware.

He grabbed Robb’s cock, iron hard under layers of clothes, his grip strong and possessive. “Now you know what I mean,” Theon said.

Robb’s nipples shone bright with spittle, looking hard and abused.

“When you want someone, you just want to touch and be touched,” he said, taking a moment to lick a long line over Robb’s sternum. And then he went down his stomach, planting kisses that were more sucking than kissing. “It doesn’t matter if you’re touching them with your hands—” he gave Robb’s cock a squeeze over his clothes “—with your mouth—” he sucked a wet spot on Robb’s hipbone “—or your tongue, you just want to touch them.”

Robb finally had the common sense of pushing a pillow under his head—he had been straining his neck trying to see what Theon was doing all along—and Theon was pleased by that. He wanted Robb to see everything clearly—Theon wanted Robb to see it when he closed his eyes to sleep, when they sparred in the yard with Ser Rodrik, and even when Robb bedded his future wife, Theon wanted him to close his eyes and remember this.

He unbuttoned Robb’s breeches and pulled them open as wide as he could without pulling them past Robb’s hips. The white cloth of his smallclothes was wet against the head of his prick. Theon pinched him there with two fingers, just hard enough to see more fluid soak the fabric. Robb’s moan was so arousing Theon did it again, but this time Robb was biting his fist and muffled the sound.

Theon unlaced Robb’s smallclothes, his mouth going watery as he saw how sticky they were with fluid.

“When you want someone, man or woman, you stop worrying about acting proper,” he said, with his mouth directly over Robb’s hardness, warm breath all over him. “You stop thinking with your brains, and you start taking orders from your body. Is your body suggesting you anything? Anything you may want to ask me?”

Gods, it was delightful seeing Robb trying to come up with the courage to ask the question that was surely on the tip of his tongue. Theon touched the slit of Robb’s cock, and a streak of viscous fluid hung from his fingertip when he pulled his hand back.

“I want—I want your mouth on me,” Robb finally broke down and said, but it wasn’t enough for Theon.

“Where on you?” he pressed further.

“Here,” Robb said, grabbing his own cock. It was one of the hottest things Theon had ever seen—Robb, his face tinted red, hard cock in his hand as he begged for Theon’s mouth.

Theon could try and force him to actually say the words, but this was fine for now. He’d make sure they did this several times more; he’d have time to make Robb do everything he wanted.

Theon wasn’t nervous when he took half of Robb’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him as far down as he could, pulling back and doing it a few times more. It was Robb’s first time doing anything like that, so as long as Theon remained in control, there was nothing to be nervous about; in fact, Theon felt so powerful it almost made him drunk.

His jaw got sore shortly after taking Robb into his mouth, so he settled for stroking Robb’s length with one hand while his tongue worked on the tip. He looked up at Robb and his river blue eyes were so foggy Theon was pretty sure he had no complaints.

He hadn’t lied to Robb—it was easy to take orders from his body when desire was so all-consuming.

Finally, Theon pulled Robb’s breeches all the way down, past his buttocks and past his knees. They got stuck on his boots, so Robb couldn’t part his legs as wide as Theon would have liked, but he didn’t stop to strip him either. He wasn’t Robb’s bloody squire. Instead, he took his mouth off Robb’s cock, stroking him almost absentmindedly.

“If I wanted to fuck you,” Theon began, but then he remembered how, not even an hour ago, Robb was telling him how little he knew about what it meant for men to fuck each other, so he restarted.

“If I wanted to put my cock inside of you, right here,” he said, his index finger going between Robb’s ass cheeks, never probing, just letting his finger rest there, “if I wanted it now…would you let me?” Theon asked, looking up at Robb’s troubled face and quirking an eyebrow like a challenge.

He had no hopes Robb would say yes, but he felt a burning need to push Robb’s boundaries, see how far he would go before saying no. So when Robb breathed a hoarse _yes_ , Theon was momentarily thrown from his saddle. He had expected Robb to ask him things like, _won’t it hurt?_ , expected him to stutter, close his legs or just say no. He had never expected a simple, vocal _yes._

Theon wouldn’t be the one to back down.

This time, Theon did remove not only Robb’s boots, but his socks, his breeches and his smallclothes. He left the shirt, though. He liked Robb like that. Looking down at him, almost completely naked, milky skin standing out against the dark fur of his bed, Theon noticed for the first time he was still completely dressed. That powerful feeling he felt when he first put Robb inside his mouth came back with a vengeance.

Robb’s stomach was fluttering, as he lied on his back, his cock still leaking, still painfully hard. Theon didn’t have anything to slick the way. He didn’t think Robb had anything either. At the brothel, the whores always took care of those things. Theon would have to improvise.

He knelt in front of the bed, before Robb’s parted legs. He spat onto his fingers and tried to rub them on Robb’s opening, but the access was difficult in that position, and despite having said yes, Robb looked like every muscle in his body was contracted. Theon could actually feel Robb’s ass twitching under his spit covered fingers, and he hadn’t even tried to breach in. Theon didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t want Robb to feel any pain at all; he wanted it to feel so good Robb would have no choice but asking Theon to fuck him again the next day, and the next, and the next—every day until they were dead and gone.

“Turn over,” Theon said, “lie down on your stomach.”

Robb complied at once, burying his face on the pillow he had been lying on. Theon wondered if Robb’s heart was pounding as furiously as his was. He took another pillow and placed it under Robb’s hips. His buttocks looked round and pert that way. Theon pulled Robb’s ass cheeks apart, exposing his pink hole. Theon’s cock jolted at the sight.

He spat on Robb’s cleft, watching it slide all the way down to his ass, and rubbed his saliva there with a thumb. He tried pushing in a little, but Robb felt so tense he didn’t dare putting much pressure in the motion. His spit was drying quickly. He’d have to make sure Robb remained slick while he tried to finger him.

His tongue found the way to Robb’s ass before he could think of what he was doing. Once mind caught up with action, his first thought was, _I have my tongue in his ass and I haven’t even kissed him._ For whatever reason, that aroused him so, he started to fumble with his laces, trying to get his breeches open with one hand, while the other kept pulling at one of Robb’s cheeks as Theon’s tongue laved at his hole.

Beneath him, Robb was melting. At the first touch of Theon’s tongue, he had shied away, pushing his hips against the mattress, but now he was humming against the pillow, all tension dissolving from him. Theon wondered if Robb even knew how high he was tilting his ass in the air, resting his weight on knees and folded arms.

This time, when Theon pushed his index finger against Robb’s opening, it slid in slowly, copious amounts of spit slicking the way as Theon licked the stretched rim. He pushed in and out a few times, stroking his own cock in time with his motions. Theon pulled his finger out of Robb, and pushed index and middle fingers into his own mouth, drooling on them. When he probed Robb’s ass again, it was a tighter fit, but every time he pulled his fingers out, it was easier to get them back inside.

Finally, Theon decided it was enough. His cock was throbbing and he didn’t think he would last long if he kept stroking himself, but at the same time, he simply couldn’t keep fingering Robb and not touch himself, so he pulled back and licked at the tiniest gape his fingers left.

Robb looked back at him from over his shoulder, eyes completely out of focus. “Are you going to fuck me now?”

It was the hottest thing Theon had ever seen.

“Yes,” he said, positioning himself behind Robb.

“Good,” Robb said, “I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

Theon spat on his palm one last time, covering himself with it, hoping it was enough. He pressed his cock against Robb, pushing slowly but relentlessly until he was fully sheathed in. Robb’s moan was strung out and throaty, and he buried his face on the pillow again to suffocate the sound.

“Did I hurt you?” Theon asked, surprised by the worry he heard in his voice.

“Yes, but—” Robb gasped “—not in a bad way.”

Staring down at Robb, Theon fervently wished he had taken off Robb’s shirt and his own clothes. He wanted to see the sweat glistening on Robb’s back, feel Robb’s ass touching his naked hips, wanted to hear the sound of skin slapping on skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull out just to strip himself.

“Can I move?” he asked, though his hips were already starting to.

“Please.”

Theon obeyed, trying to set a rhythm. Robb was warm inside, stretched tight around him, and it felt amazing, slow long thrusts getting faster and shallower, but the angle felt all wrong, like Theon was hitting something inside Robb. He tried to shift his hips a little, but Robb’s reaction was instantaneous.

“No,” he cried, “don’t stop. Keep—keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

Theon marveled at how out of breath Robb sounded.

“Like this?” he asked, slamming his cock at the spot he was before.

Robb twisted the furs in his fingers. “Yeah, f-fuck me right there.” The tip of his ears were burning bright red. “Faster.”

Theon did as he was told, hips snapping against Robb’s, and once again he wished Robb was fully naked. He wanted to kiss Robb’s back, bite his shoulder, scratch his chest—do anything to tell Robb how much he loved this, how badly he wished they had done this sooner, how intensely he would crave this once they were done.

“It’s going to be over soon,” Theon warned him. He could feel his release building up fast in his gut.

“Just—just a little longer,” Robb panted, “I want to come with you inside me.”

“Then I suggest you do it soon,” Theon said, taking one hand from Robb’s hip, and closing it around his cock.

Theon barely had time to stroke him. A couple tugs, and Robb was squirting all over, coating Theon’s hand and the furs beneath him, ass clenched tight. Theon held him by the hips again, closing his eyes, and fucking into him once, twice, three times more, before he spilled too, spurting seed deep inside Robb. When he pulled out, Robb’s knees no longer held his weight and he lied down on the wet spot on the bed. He didn’t seem to care.

Theon lay down beside him, wondering if Robb felt as overwhelmed as Theon was. Blissful, sated, languid, but overwhelmed as well.

It was a strange moment. After Theon fucked someone, he was never at a loss for what to do. A hasty departure was usually expected of him. Most times, he was either with a whore, or with someone he wasn’t supposed to be bedding in the first place—a married woman, or some girl with an angry father. Robb was no exception; the heir to Winterfell was probably the last person Theon should be fucking—Lord Stark would no doubt take him to the block if he ever got word of it. If Theon got dressed and left right then, it would be only natural, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

When Robb finally opened his eyes and looked at him, Theon still hadn’t done what he was supposed to, so he did the only thing he wanted to—he kissed Robb. It was a chaste kiss, nothing more than a soft caress to the boy’s lips.

“Will Artos from the Reach be staying at the _tavern_ again?”

“No,” Robb said, giving him a closed-lipped smile. “Artos already got what he wanted from who he actually wanted.”

Theon closed his eyes, grinning.


End file.
